


That Witchy Rose

by Ember Nickel (primeideal)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Next Generation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/Ember%20Nickel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Romeo and Juliet Act II, Scene 2, Line 45 is quoted among the young Weasleys, it's not in the context one might expect. Originally written June 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Witchy Rose

The cousins walked down the hallway a few paces apart, neither heading to the same destination nor clearly going separate ways, simply enjoying each other's company. Rose Weasley, clenching two books between her arm and chest, was a few paces ahead, such that anyone rounding the opposite corner would have perceived her a few seconds before noticing her cousin.

Such was the unfortunate fate befalling one Scorpius Malfoy, who instinctively began "Oh! Rose! I was just—do you have a—oh. Er. Hello, ah."

"Hey," said Fred Weasley, coolly.

Scorpius opened his mouth, licking his lips several times, before nervously raising one hand in a stilted greeting, nodding silently, and bolting off in the opposite direction.

Rose raised her eyebrows. "Scram."

Fred raised his. "Thanks."

"Can't you see he's nervous? He probably wants to talk—oy, Scorpius, hold on, I'll be there in a minute."

He froze at the end of the next hallway down. Conveniently, Hogwarts being Hogwarts, the hallway chose that moment to begin pivoting, sending him back towards Rose. "It's all right," she called, "Fred was just leaving."

" _Thanks_ ," Fred hissed as he stomped in the opposite direction. Behind him, he could barely make out a stammer. "Just wanted to talk to you—if you're free—"

Another Fred Weasley might have thought it the perfect excuse to use Extendable Ears or the like, but this Fred had no such interest. Hands in pockets, more perturbed than he ought to have been, he shuffled down another corridor, out of sight.

Until he was interrupted by a crowing "Hey, buddy!" James Potter was not that much older than Fred, but the intervening months made him a seventh year and demoted Fred to "buddy" status. "What's new?"

"Nothin'," he shrugged. "Rose is being bossy, sent me out of the way so Scorpius could tell her something. It's bad enough you push me around, now the little kids are—"

" _Our_  Rose? Rose Weasley?  _Sent you out of the way so Scorpius could tell her something?_ " James' eyes lit up in undisguised glee. "Are you  _joking_?"

"James, for the last time, I don't do jokes. No."

"I  _knew_  it, I  _knew_  he fancied her, I've known ever since the singing telegram debacle and that witchy rose."

The latter phrase stirred a vague memory in Fred's mind, but he latched onto the latter. "The singing telegram debacle? Come off it, James, this is Scorpius Malfoy we're talking about, he'd never have sent one."

"Oh, not him. It was that witchy rose...you remember how it all came out? This was a while back, Victoire was telling us about a random singing telegram she'd received on her half-birthday."

Fred's jaw dropped.

"Were you even around for this?"

"I...Victoire was telling  _you_  about a mysterious singing telegram? No, I don't think I was there for that."

"She was telling everybody. Someone sent her a telegram for her half-birthday, she never found out who. Some old Muggle song, so she could celebrate a proper birthday instead of sitting through all the war crud. We got to talking about what she'd have been called if she'd been born some other day."

" _This_  conversation?" said Fred. "Yeah, Al and I got dragged in."

"Right! Right! And you were saying this was only something you and Al and Victoire understood, me and Lily didn't count, but I still think we do too because—"

"—you're named after dead people from the first war, we've been through this, but that doesn't count, lots of kids don't—"

"—grow up with all their grandparents, you said so, right, but that's different because—"

"—wizarding families have longer lifespans, you told me, but just look at—"

"—I  _have_  looked at the Black family tree, I think they were just—"

"—too inbred to subtract, that's exactly what you said—"

"—four years ago!"

The cousins laughed and then, once their laughter had died down slightly, simultaneously blurted "So, you've come around to the right—" Neither could blurt out "side of the argument," as this set off another burst of laughter, but they were clearly both as stuck in their ways as ever.

"But are you sure it was the mystery telegram that set it all off?" Fred finally asked once he could get a complete sentence out.

"Definitely. Not until a few weeks after the telegram, we were all back together for holiday. But Aunt Hermione jumped in about some Muggle play and that witchy rose, and whatever a name is doesn't really matter, but Audrey thought it had something to do with Rose and some Pureblood from a family we don't like fancying each other. And I just knew it in the way she blushed, I  _knew_ it!"

"Fancied each other? That was...their first year, you're sick!"

"Just because you're not interested in snogging right now doesn't mean everybody isn't."

"I didn't say interested right now, I said in their first year. Merlin's...anyway, you're still sick."

"Whatever. That's passed, now, they're fifth years and perfectly old enough to fancy each other."

Fred shrugged.

"C'mon, let's get back to the common room, and if Rose gets in your way I'll hex her."

"That sounds good," he laughed weakly.

They retraced Fred's steps, and as they did so, James noticed Rose and Scorpius out of the corner of his eye. "Of course this doesn't change anything, you git," said Rose—they were both smiling—"we're still friends."

Fred smiled and edged around a corner so he couldn't be seen. James, crestfallen, followed a moment behind.

"That'll teach you," he said in a low voice.

James shrugged.

But Fred found it hard to get back to his essay that night, as he kept whistling "It's May, it's May, the lusty month of May" for the first time since a distant November.


End file.
